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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761237">in a cabin by the sea</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian'>MaliciousVegetarian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Friendship, Chickens, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Go To The Coast, Horses, I mean so does everyone else, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's like accidental baby acquisition but on purpose and with magic, Kid Fic, Multi, Nonbinary Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Parenthood, Polycules, Queer Families, Queer Parenthood, and that's saying something, but they do in fact go, magical baby acquisition, the most self indulgent bullshit I've ever writte</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:32:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,626</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaliciousVegetarian/pseuds/MaliciousVegetarian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>31 days of polycule nonsense, using bamf-jaskier's Witchertober prompts.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ermion | Mousesack/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Ermion | Mousesack/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Ermion | Mousesack/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the coast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well this is self indulgent and completely unedited and I kind of hate it, but oh well here you go</p><p>Warnings: themes of mental health issues</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wind is blowing sand directly into Geralt’s eyes.  They shade them and look at the ocean, a strange and shifting green-brown-gray expanse that seems to glow where the light hits.  </p><p>They’re at the head of the small group, and behind them they can hear their partners talking, laughing about nothing in particular.  It’s going to be an absolutely miserable day.</p><p>The beach is short, running into the trees that frame the little cove they’ve discovered.  “Here seems like a good place to stop,” Jaskier calls.  Geralt doesn’t particularly agree, but they move down the sand so the others can gather around.</p><p>“Good find, Jaskier,” Triss says appreciatively, setting down the basket they’ve brought with them.  Yennefer grins, reaching down to pull her shoes off and bury her toes in the sand.  Triss takes Geralt’s arm, pulling them towards the sea, where Jaskier is already ankle deep.  Behind them, Mousesack settles himself on a giant bleached tree that’s washed up.</p><p>“It’ll be too cold,” Geralt grits out, not looking forward to the prospect.</p><p>“C’mon, you’re a big tough witcher,” Jaskier calls, having somehow overheard them.  </p><p>“I know you’re in a bad mood,” Triss tells Geralt softly, “but come on.  Participate a little.”</p><p>Reluctantly they allow her to drag them into the water, wincing a little as the cold waves lap over his feet.</p><p>“See?” Jaskier asks, shivering.  “It’s not that bad.”</p><p>“It looks that bad!” Yenn calls from where she’s spread out a blanket that keeps ballooning out with the wind and has opened one of her novels.  Triss laughs at her.</p><p>If Geralt is being honest, the cool water feels good for the moment.  They’re not in a mood to be honest, however.  They’re in a mood to tear everything the fuck apart.</p><p>Triss must notice some change in their expression, because her hand tightens on their arm, pulling them in close.  “I know you didn’t want to come today, but thank you for doing it anyways.”</p><p>Geralt shrugs half heartedly.  “Probably not good to stay inside all the time.”</p><p>She rubs their arm a little.  “No, but I know it’s hard.”</p><p>They nod, suddenly trying not to tear up.  It’s the wind, it’s definitely just the wind.</p><p>They love these people, all four of them, in a way they didn’t know it was possible to love.  And even now, when emotions seem filtered through fabric, that love shines in comparison to everything else.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. oxenfurt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here is chapter two!  Don't tell anyone but I'm really proud of this.</p><p>Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing about duty, Jaskier muses as he sits in a messy nook of his rooms in Oxenfurt, is that it means so many different things to different people.  Everyone chooses the institution they give their duty to - for some it’s a ruler, for others a god, and for some, tradition and family.  </p><p>His parents followed the last school of thought, at least on the surface.  As far as Jaskier can tell, they were always more loyal to tradition, to the ideals of their lineage, than to any actual living people.  Jaskier and his siblings had largely been left to fend for themselves, except when they stepped outside the narrow lines.  Then they would be the target of their parents’ ire.</p><p>Jaskier dips his quill into thick ink, and hovers it above his parchment, considering.  He has the idea behind this song in his head, but he wants to make sure his thoughts are in order before he truly begins.</p><p>He wonders idly what his parents would think of him now.  He hasn’t spoken to them in years, although he knows from his sister Clara that they had bragged to a neighboring noble about his position at Oxenfurt.</p><p>He dips the quill back into the ink, stifled again.  He’s too lost in his thoughts, trying to grab the end of a tangle of yarn so he can pull it out.  He remembers helping Clara with that, when they’d been children.  She would be tasked to ball yarn to prepare it for knitting, and sometimes the skein would become so enmeshed she couldn’t get it out.  The two of them would spend hours on it.</p><p>He hasn’t thought about that in a long time.  He writes to Clara frequently, but he hasn’t seen her in years, either.</p><p>Jaskier wants, badly, for the family they’re building to be different.  He trusts his partners to make it so, it’s himself he doubts.  Will he be able to impart the grand thoughts he spins in this room into lessons he can pass on to Ciri, to any other children they might have?  Or will he fall short, becoming cold and distant as his own parents were.</p><p>If his loves were there now, they would walk him through the thoughts, reminding him carefully that he is nothing like his parents.  Mousesack would remind him of his success as a teacher of young minds.  Triss would point out how radically different his personality was from either of his parents.  Geralt would tell him how wonderful he was with Ciri.  And Yennefer would whisper her own similar fears to him late at night, the two of them holding tight together as if to ward off the ghosts of their parents.</p><p>He sighs, looking down once again at the blank parchment.  He’s caught the end of the yarn, he thinks.  This will be an ode to duty to <i>people</i>, not to family as an abstract concept.  To loving those you surround yourself with and making a home, together, that is better than where you came from.</p><p>He lowers his pen and begins to write.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here's day three, woods!  I thought Mousesack needed a little love, so this is Mousesack-centric.  Also Ciri is here now!  Can't have a big poly family without a former princess to parent, after all.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The woods become thick enough that only about two hundred yards from the house, you can already barely see it.  Mousesack glances back, but he can only barely see the outlines of the others, working on the house.</p><p>He’s been tasked with keeping Ciri busy for a few hours - a generally easy task, as she is a plucky and inquisitive girl.  In addition, the woods near the new house have remained largely unexplored thus far, and she is always eager to change that.</p><p>They’ve reached a distraction, though - a large oak tree, set slightly apart from the others with an absolutely massive trunk and several low hanging branches, which Ciri had taken the end of and scampered up like a squirrel.  She’s currently gone about as far as she can, and Mousesack is relieved she has the sense to stop there.  He certainly wouldn’t have at her age.  The number of trees he’d almost fallen out of as a child is slightly embarrassing, for a druid.</p><p>Ciri yells something excitedly from her perch.</p><p>“What?”  He calls up to her, cupping his hands around his mouth as he looks up through the dark green foliage.  It’s high summer, and the trees are reveling in it.</p><p>“I can see the ocean from here!” She calls back.  “Only a little, but still!”</p><p>“Very exciting!” He tells her, feeling a twinge of guilt for the forest dweller they’ve probably terrified with their yelling.  He is suddenly very glad the little house has no close neighbors.</p><p>The wind is picking up a little, and the top of the pine begins to sway gently in the wind.  Ciri laughs, clutching the branches tight.  Mousesact wonders if he should make her come down, but he trusts the tree - it’s undoubtedly stood up to many firmer winds than this.</p><p>After a few more minutes, Ciri scrambles down again.  Mousesack suspects the motion of the tree had begun to scare her, as the wind has continued to increase, but he won’t injure her pride by suggesting so.</p><p>“Where to next?” He asks, only narrowly avoiding calling her ‘your highness’.  She is still for only a moment, peering into the depths of the forest, before something catches her eyes.  “There, those rocks.  Race you!” And she’s off.</p><p>Sometimes he marvels at the change in her since he took her from the Cintran court at Calanthe’s orders two years ago.  She’s always been independent and energetic, but she had begun to develop a little of the courtly discipline her grandmother prized.  Out here, she is not impolite, simply wild, in the old sense of the word, the way that children should be wild.  Cool mud under their feet and twigs in their hair and knowledge of the forest at their fingertips.</p><p>He is glad to see her like this, to be able to have gifted her this freedom.  He knows this stage of her life will only last so long, and someday the woods will seem much smaller than the way she sees them now.  But for now she is a child, laughing as she scrambles up the rocks, and he would have it no other way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. kaer morhen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is shorter than normal, but it's been a bad day, so here's a little vent drabble cause I think it was the only thing I could have gotten out.  </p><p>Warnings: emotional abuse, abusive friendships</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His name was Kalin.</p><p>Sometimes, thinking about him makes Geralt wake up at night, shivering.  Sometimes it makes them want to vomit.</p><p>But honestly, that's rare.  And their brain uses that as a reason that it wasn't real, that Geralt made up how bad it got.  That Kalin didn't have them wrapped around his finger.</p><p>They can't talk about it.  If they talk about it, they're taking away from people who really got hurt, people whose partners or parents were cruel, truly cruel.  Friends aren't supposed to have that power, people think.  Friends aren't supposed to be able to break you down to your parts and build you up <i>wrong</i>.</p><p>On the night it happens for the first time at the house, it's a song Jaskier sings.  One Geralt had forgotten Kalin used to sing when they were children.  When it was over, when he had made Geralt feel awful and wrong and bad, mad them feel like they were the one hurting Kalin, made them feel like they were crazy, they would lie in bed together and he would sing it.</p><p>Eskel never liked Kalin.</p><p>Triss comes out and sits down with them.  Geralt's head is swirling.  They aren't quite back in the past but their feelings are.  They know the when and the where of now but everything else feels tenuous.  They can almost feel Kalin's hand on their shoulder, tracing a circle like he used to when Geralt was being too loud.  Eventually, they stopped talking at all.  </p><p>"I cried when he died," they tell Triss in the here and now.  "I was crying for him, but I was also crying because I was glad.  How could I have been glad?"</p><p>"You're allowed to be glad," Triss murmurs.  "You're allowed to feel however you want about him."</p><p>"Vesemir tried to separate us,"  Geralt says.  "But I cried until I vomited, and the other masters said it was too much trouble."</p><p>"I know," Triss says, because she does.  They all do, all his partners.  They're the only people Geralt can talk to about it, the only people who understand what it means when Geralt says, "You're not <i>listening</i>."  Geralt loves them for it.  They wish they were easier to love in return.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one fought me, but I like how it turned out.  Day 6 will hopefully be up today as well.</p><p>Warnings: brief mentions of past recreational drug use</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fire is leaping, seeming as alive as any of them.  Ciri is curled up against Yennefer, already half asleep even though the sky is still a little light and she swore she would stay awake long enough to see the stars.</p><p>Jaskier is singing, something quiet and mournful.  Geralt leans against Triss, watching Mousesack knit across from them.  The fire casts sharp shadows on their lovers’ faces, making them almost seem like strangers (but they could never be).</p><p>Triss joins in with Jaskier, and Geralt can feel the vibrations of her singing under their ear.  They lean in a little closer, enjoying being so close to her heartbeat.  </p><p>“Look,” Yenn whispers, clearly trying not to wake Ciri.  “The first star is out.”</p><p>Geralt glances up at the sky, seeing a pinprick of light through the trees.  Jaskier has a smile on his face as he plays.  He switches songs, and Geralt finds themself humming along.  It’s one of Jaskier’s own songs, one they all know by heart.</p><p>“We should go inside soon,” Yenn murmurs.  “It’s starting to get cold.”</p><p>“A little longer,” Jaskier says, not losing time in his playing.  “Let’s see if we can wait out the stars.”</p><p>He switches again, this time to The Stars Above the Path.  Geralt doesn’t sing along with this one, even though they know it by heart.  It sounds better when it’s just Jaskier.</p><p>They close their eyes, drifting a little, thinking about how safe this feels.  There are no hunts in the upcoming future, no hateful humans nearby.  They can relax into the chill of the night, the warmth of the fire, and the sight of the stars.</p><p>They wake with a start.  The sky has gone darker, and the fire is burned down.  Mousesack and Triss are packing their stuff up.  Jaskier is carefully returning his lute to it’s case.  Yenn is wrapping a blanket around Ciri, who seems half awake.</p><p>“This was a good idea,” Triss says, folding a blanket over and placing it in the bag they brought.  “We should do this again, before it starts to get too cold.”</p><p>Yenn nods.  “I can’t remember the last time I did something like this.  It was lovely.”</p><p>“I think the last time would have been Aretuza,” Triss says with a smile.  “And I think we were both experimenting with some potions.”</p><p>Yenn grins back at her.</p><p>“Sounds like you two had a good time,” Jaskier snorts.  “Although I think Essi Daven has some similar stories with me.”</p><p>“I’m going to assume yours don’t end the same way,” Triss says with a wink, and Jaskier’s responding laugh seems to echo through the forest.</p><p>Geralt carries Ciri home.  She’s getting heavy, but they don’t care.  They don’t think they’ll ever stop wanting to scoop her up when she’s tired like this, even when she’s a teenager and grumpy with them.  The little white house is dark, but as soon as they’re inside Yenn lights a lamp.</p><p>“I can take her to bed,” Mousesack says, gesturing to Ciri.</p><p>“I can do it,” Geralt says, shifting her in their arms. “You can take her up next time."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. found</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello again!  Yes, I have a thing for old barns, how could you tell.</p><p>Also, I would just like to say that yes, they could definitely strip the paint of the house by magic, but sometimes you're gay and you daydream about making home repairs with your partners and then write about it.  It happens.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yenn has paint in her hair, in her clothes, stuck to her skin.  Little specks of white that would take hours to wash off if she didn’t have her chaos.  Just because she can flick it away with a thought, however, doesn’t mean she isn’t going to complain.</p><p>“This is awful,” Jaskier says beside her, pushing wavy brown hair out of his eyes.  “Why did we decide to do this at noon again?”</p><p> </p><p>Triss wipes the sweat from her face with an invisible hand.  “I have no idea, but I’m frustrated with our past selves.”</p><p>“Look!” Ciri calls from somewhere behind them.  “Come look what we found!”  There’s dust on her face and hair, and a spiderweb stretched over one shoulder, and she’s grinning.  She’s been exploring the barn on the edge of the property with Geralt and Mousesack while the others work on stripping the old paint from the house.  Yennefer is of the opinion that she and her companions got the more unpleasant task.</p><p>Triss swipes at the spiderweb, using a bit of chaos to pick it from Ciri’s shoulder whole.  She gasps in delight, holding out her hands to see it.  “Can I keep that?”</p><p>“Of course,” Jaskier says before Yennefer can mention she doesn’t want that in her house.  “Leave it on the porch for now and show us your new find.”</p><p>They follow her in an awkward little line, Triss reaching behind her to take Yennefer’s hand.  She can feel the paint flakes coating her skin, and has to muffle a laugh.  What have they gotten themselves into.</p><p>The barn is much shabbier than the house, a ramshackle building that seems to have once been painted red.  There’s an upper level and a lower one, with a wood frame on a stone base set into a hill.  The frame is sturdy, despite the flimsy look of the siding.</p><p>Ciri leads them into the bottom half.  Geralt and Mousesack are half obscured by shadow, pulling at something in a corner.  Yennefer snaps her fingers and creates a purple orb of light.  She can almost feel Jaskier rolling his eyes behind her.  The object in the corner is a small building, with the bones of a coop attached to the front.</p><p>“It’s a chicken coop!”  Ciri says excitedly.  “We can get chickens for it, right?  We have to now that we have a house for them.”  </p><p>The adults glance at each other.  “We were planning on getting goats anyways,” Geralt points out.  “We might as well get chickens as well.”</p><p>“I have no idea about chickens,” Jaskier admits. </p><p>“They can be nasty,” Mousesack says, shivering a little as if at the memory of a particularly dreadful fowl.  “But if you handle them enough, they can also be quite tame.”</p><p>“I always liked ours,” Yennefer says, thinking of the flock her family had kept.</p><p>“Our neighbors probably have some,” Triss muses.  “I bet they have pullets from this spring, they might sell us a few.”</p><p>Ciri grins radiantly, running over to hug Triss tightly.</p><p>“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Geralt tells her.  “We still have to get this fucking thing out of the barn.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here, have me yelling about snow for 500 words.  Also I am bullshitting how magic works, don't @ me</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Triss is woken at what feels a very early hour by the sound of her beloved daughter yelling outside their door.</p><p>"There's snow!  It snowed last night!"</p><p>"It's too early," Jaskier mutters next to her, rolling over a little bit.</p><p>"Very early for snow," Geralt says sleepily.</p><p>"That's not what I - never mind."</p><p>Mousesack gets up and opens the window, sticking his head into the rush of cool air.  "Close that!"  Yennefer, who's closest to the window, yells.  Mousesack obeys, just as Ciri comes rushing into the room and jumps on the bed, kneeling Jaskier hard in the stomach.  He groans, but reaches up to wrap an arm around her.</p><p>"Good morning, little lion."</p><p>"Morning!  It snowed!"</p><p>"There's maybe half an inch," Mousesack says, amused.</p><p>"It's still snow!  The first snow in our new house."</p><p>"That's a good point, little one," Yennefer says, reaching out her arms.  Ciri flops over Geralt, so she's got a hand in Jaskier's and one in Yenn's.  Geralt laughs a little breathlessly.</p><p>"You're getting a little heavy."</p><p>She giggles.  "Not as heavy as you!"</p><p>They pretend to be enraged, roaring and scooping her up.  She laughs, the sound echoing pure and bright in the large room.  "Can we go outside now?"</p><p>"Of course we can," Yenn says.  "But you have to go get dressed first."</p><p>In a moment, Ciri's off.  The adults are much slower.  "What time is it, anyways?" Jaskier asks.  </p><p>"Early," is all Geralt says in response.</p><p>“I’ll go down and help her,” Triss offers, more excited about the snow that she’s willing to admit.</p><p>By the time Triss gets downstairs, Ciri has put on her heavy shawl and is partially entangled in a massive scarf that technically belongs to Mousesack.</p><p>“A little stuck there, cub?” she asks, not bothering to keep the amusement from her voice.</p><p>Ciri nods, the motion muffled by the wool.</p><p>The snow is still falling, fine flakes that don’t stick together.  A few flakes land on Ciri’s mittens, and she holds them out to Triss to examine.  It gives Triss an idea.</p><p>“Here, Ciri, want to see something cool?”</p><p>Ciri nods enthusiastically, snowflakes sticking to her hair where it isn’t covered by her hat.  Triss carefully calls on her chaos and makes a small spot of magnification over one of the snowflakes on her own gloves.  She had learned this years ago, but it’s been a while since she used it for fun and not as a helpful tool for healing.</p><p>She’s always loved the snow.  There’s something that stays magical about it, no matter how old she gets.  That’s undoubtedly helped by her being a sorceress who can easily push it out of the way when she wants to, but still.  It’s always been something she loves.</p><p>Ciri looks over and gasps at the crystalline structure on display in Triss’ hand.  It looks slightly iridescent in the dim light coming through the clouds.  The ice has formed perfectly balanced formations.</p><p>“Catch another one,” Ciri says excitedly, and Triss brushes her hands off and complies.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. chamomile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Who wants more Jaskier ramblings on parenthood?  No one?  Excellent.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The little greenhouse is magically warmed, despite the snow gathered thick outside.  The days are short, but in here the light lasts as long as the young plants need.</p><p>Jaskier has discovered in himself an unexpected fondness for gardening.  He has not, however, discovered much of a talent for it.  He’s passable.  Nothing has died yet, anyways.</p><p>Yennefer has pointed out that these are baby plants, and at this point them being alive and having (mostly) sprouted is as good as you can hope for.  Jaskier has pointed out that she does not know what she’s talking about when it comes to plants.  She has pointed out that she does, actually, it was part of her studies.  Geralt has told them that they’re both being idiots and should stop.  They haven’t.</p><p>Right now, he’s examining the herb trays, looking at each little sprout and enjoying how different the species already seem.  They’re tiny and perfect, something he can care for and watch grow.</p><p>It’s a pretty obvious metaphor for parenthood, if he lets himself think about it.  He does, because thinking about metaphors is kind of his job as a bard.  He’s had a lot of parenting feelings lately, and he’s now exploring them through horticulture.</p><p>They’ve been raising Ciri as a group for two years, almost three years now, ever since she was five.  It’s been the most rewarding experience of Jaskier’s life so far.  And now that they’ve been talking about expanding their family, he’s been thinking about the philosophy of it a lot more.</p><p>He’s written several long manifestos on parenting, one of which made Geralt cry a little.  That wasn’t the intended effect, but it feels good to know his work is that powerful.  He’s not planning on doing anything further with them.</p><p>They’re all so eager for it, is the thing.  They are five people who for various reasons never expected to have children.  WIth Ciri, they had sort of fallen into it - Mousesack had been tasked with bringing her to Geralt, and the rest of them had been drawn into their orbit.  The idea of entering into this strange contract again, with full intent, has gotten them all excited.</p><p>Jaskier is so deep in thoughts he doesn’t realize he’s almost knocked over a tray of chamomile seedlings.  He rights them, laughing to himself at the memories associated with the plant.  The seedlings have already started to grow their lacier adult leaves.  They were some of the first he planted, because of course he was going to.</p><p>He sighs, not sure anymore what he’s supposed to be doing.  He’s found that happens a lot when he’s in here - something about being surrounded by so much green seems to lead him to deep thoughts.  And it’s cozy in here - warm and slightly humid, with a smell Jaskier can’t place but seems to be the smell of growing things.</p><p>He figures out where he’s going and returns to his work, carefully watering the seedlings, making sure to soak them without overwatering.  He’s excited to see what they look like in the spring.  He’s got a lot to look forward to in the spring, now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. destiny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here ya go!  For reference, Dami is Geralt's parent name, and Papa is Jaskier's.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Destiny bound you and me together, right Dami?” Ciri is curled against Geralt, looking at the fire blazing in the fireplace.  They’ve got a thick blanket Mousesack knitted pulled over them, and she’s got her head pressed against their chest.  Outside, there isn’t snow, but it’s still bitterly cold.</p><p>“It did,” Geralt tells her, sliding a hand over her back.  “But I don’t like to give destiny all the credit.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“It wasn’t just destiny, was it?  There were people involved as well.  And you could say those people - Mousesack, and your grandmother, and Yennefer and Triss and Jaskier -  were influenced by destiny, and maybe they were.  But they also made the choice to bring you here, and we made the choice to be a family.”</p><p>She seems to be considering that.  She considers it so long that Geralt asks, “What do you think about that?”</p><p>She cocks her head.  “I like it.  But I like destiny too.”</p><p>She thinks for a moment longer.</p><p>“Maybe it’s like glue.  Like we’re all pieces that go together, and it holds us all, like when I broke that flowerpot and Papa showed me how to put it back together.”</p><p>“I like that,” Geralt says with a smile.  They do, but mostly what they’re thinking about is how lucky they are to have this brilliant little girl in their life, to be one of the people who gets to be trusted to take care of her.  They had really never expected to have this, even when they had claimed her as their child surprise.  Maybe that’s why they had run so far from it, because they knew it would be a facsimile of their most secret dreams.</p><p>They love her so much.  They love all of them so much.  There aren’t really words for it, just the knowledge that this will stretch on forever, that no matter what happens this feeling will still exist.  Sometimes, on bad days, they doubt it, but they can always rely on the fact that on the next good day they will see it in shining color, stretched in front of them like the sea.</p><p>It’s an odd feeling, finally having something they know they won’t lose.  Sometimes it feels almost terrifying, like they have to pull and strain against it, because how are they supposed to adjust to this?  But they’ve started talking to their partners when they feel like that, and it helps.</p><p>They’re still quiet by nature, but in the last two years they’ve gotten better at talking about feelings.  It’s not entirely new, Eskel would always try to get them to talk about it, but they never knew how to explain anything.  They hadn’t yet learned how to pin their feelings to the corkboard and label them.</p><p>But they’re getting better at that, and their partners tell them that’s all that can be asked of them.</p><p>They want to be the best they can be - for their partners, for Ciri, for their future children.  Now, there are days when it feels possible.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. teeth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Does this count as plot?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Do you think the baby will have teeth like yours?" Triss asks Geralt from where she's lying on the rug.</p><p>"What, when it's born?" Jaskier snorts next to her.  She rolls over slightly to give him a stern look.</p><p>"No, when their teeth come in.  Don't be an idiot, and don't call our baby an it."</p><p>Jaskier kicks her gently, and the two of them start play wrestling like teenagers.  Yennefer laughs at them, her hand squeezing Geralt's as it does so.</p><p>"There isn't even a baby yet," Geralt points out.  "I don't think it matters if Jaskier uses it. Mousesack smiles at them from his chair across the room.</p><p>"It's the principle of the thing, I think."</p><p>"And there will be a baby soon," Yennefer points out.  "We've almost finished with the setup."</p><p>"You're sure it'll work?" Geralt asks, pushing themself up on their elbows.  "I don't know if I'm ready to get my hopes up."</p><p>"It should," Yennefer says, stroking their hair reassuringly.  "We've been through the magic theory hundreds of times."</p><p>"That's different than it working," Geralt says, feeling a familiar anxiety in their gut.  Something about the nature of this feels too similar to the trials.</p><p>Yennefer seems to sense it, and squeezes the back of their neck with one hand.  "We do know what we're doing, Geralt.  And we won't let anything happen to them once we have them."</p><p>They nod mutely.  They trust Yennefer, Triss, and Mousesack, after all.  They believe they are better people than the mages of Kaer Morhen ever were.  And they believe that, unlike those long ago mages, they have the best interests of their subjects in their minds.</p><p>"We'll start tomorrow, then?"  Mousesack asks gently.  Geralt suddenly realizes this whole endeavor currently rests on them.   Their partners are looking at them expectantly. </p><p>They lean into Yennefer's touch.  "Sure."</p><p>"Really?"  Triss asks gently.  They shrug.</p><p>"I trust you all.  I know you've been through this again and again.  And I know -"  they pause, not sure how to phrase it.  Jaskier nods.</p><p>"They'll do a good job.  And we've been joking about teeth, but if they're right about your mutations, they'll be stronger than a human child.  That's why we're using you and Yennefer, remember?  Chaos and witcher genes."</p><p>Geralt nods, because they know, they really do.  They're ready for this.  The five of them (and Ciri) have talked the plan to death, and their baby will be born next fall, if everything goes to plan.</p><p>Geralt lets themself picture it - a little baby with white hair like theirs, or dark like Yen's, or - they haven't been able to remember their original hair color for years, but maybe Eskel would know.  Either way, their baby.  That's the important part.</p><p>"I'm ready," they say, both to confirm it and to reassure themselves.  Their partners, gathered close together, smile back at them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welp this is literally just them making a magic baby.  I promise we will be back to soft family time next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yennefer feels the power swirling around her as she guides it where she wants to go.  It’s a delicate process, ripping time and space in exactly the right way so their baby can stay cradled there, fed by chaos, until it’s ready to emerge.  For the next nine months, she and Geralt will provide energy, their signature magics influencing the child’s growth.  It’s going to be an exhausting time, but there are few things Yennefer has looked forward to more.</p><p>Triss’s hand is around her wrist, delicately cradling the tendons and Yennefer moves with the steps she takes, a parody of direction.  Mousesack is holding onto Triss’s other hand, and Yennefer can feel the buzzing of their chaos buoying her own.  It’s almost time.</p><p>Yennefer carefully carves out the space, making sure it balances securely between <i>here</i> and <i>now</i>, making sure nothing will disturb it, or render it unlivable.  She creates it dark and warm and pulsing with a magical kind of life, ready to nurture a tiny new person.  Ready to care for their child.</p><p>She doesn’t want to pull away from the space, afraid it will crumble if she does so, but she knows she has to.  It has to be structurally sound before they go farther.  She lets her chaos fall most of the way away, connected only by tendrils.  When she reaches out to feel for it, the pocket is still there, spinning with possibilities.</p><p>“It’s ready,” she says, and Mousesack nods.  He drops Triss’s hand and reaches for the door.  He doesn’t even have to call into the hallway before Geralt is practically falling through, they’re so eager to get in.  At the sight of their partners, of the chaos still swirling around Yennefer, they pause.  </p><p>“It’s worked?”</p><p>“It has,” Triss tells them.  “It’s time for the next step.”</p><p>Slowly, they walk over to Yennefer.  Mousesack rests a hand on their wrist, and Triss tightens her hold on Yennefer’s.  Yennefer and Geralt clasp hands, and Yenn has a sudden pang of sadness that Jaskier isn’t with them.  But they’ve discussed this, and decided that his fae magic was too finicky for this delicate first attempt.  Next time, she promises herself.  Next time he’ll be here for sure.  </p><p>The next part is a strange kind of instinct more than anything else.  Yennefer feels a piece being taken out of her - it’s cliche, but she swears the pull is from her heart.  Geralt’s eyes widen, and then there is something in front of them, pulsing and swirling together.  Yennefer, fighting through exhaustion now, reaches out once again to the pocket, pulling it open and letting the energy they’ve created flow inside.</p><p>There’s a long moment where she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be feeling, and then she can sense it.  It’s not the heartbeat, that won’t start for weeks, but instead the tiny spark of life splitting, again and again, growing larger and slightly more complex with each one.</p><p>She meets Geralt’s eyes and smiles dizzily, just as the door inches open and Jaskier’s voice calls, “Well?  Has it worked?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. portals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Baby time, time for babies</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the time comes, it's easy enough.  Yennefer simply reaches her chaos around the pocket, gently pulling it open.  A dull purple glow lights the nursery, casting bright shadows on the faces of her loved ones, watching eagerly.</p><p>She reaches in carefully, feeling with her chaos before her hands the shape of the child within.  Gently, gently, she pulls the child into the world.</p><p>They don't cry, throat still clogged with mucus, so Yenn puts her hand beside their face, using the tiniest bit of magic to suction it free.  Then, the baby cries, and Yennefer hears gasps of release behind her.</p><p>It's a girl, or so they will assume until she tells them otherwise.  Her hair is dark and wet, so Yennefer can't see the color, but her eyes, wide open, are a shimmering gold, the tiny pupils slitted.</p><p>"Here," Triss says, handing her a towel.  Yennefer rubs the baby down vigorously, trying not to mourn the breaking of this first moment.  Now that the thrall they all seemed under has been lifted, the others begin to come forward.  Jaskier gives her the blanket Mousesack has spent months working on, light brown and soft as a cloud.  The baby has suddenly gone from mostly still to moving wildly, and Yennefer is momentarily afraid she’ll drop her.</p><p>She knows she has to let go, the first time in what she can see now will be a string of letting go.  Cradling her head, she passes the baby to Jaskier, who takes her with soft, hesitant moments.  “Look at that hair,” he murmurs as the others all lean in to get a closer look.  Now that the baby has been dried somewhat, it’s clear that her hair is a dark red.</p><p>“And those eyes,” Mousesack says.  “She’s got Geralt’s eyes, alright.”  The baby begins to whine, squirming harder, the reality of her new world crashing down on her.  Clearly, it does not pass muster.  Jaskier rearranges her, making soft humming noises the entire time.  She doesn’t settle, already mad at the world.  Yennefer understands.  </p><p>Or, rather, she had understood, a while ago.  The anger at the world is still there, but the last few years have beaten down it’s harsh edges.  And this is the greatest blow of all, the newest good thing in her life, her baby.  Her daughter.</p><p>Jaskier passes her to Triss, who strokes fingers over her chick-fluff hair, marvels at her nose.  “She has your nose,” she tells Yennefer, and Yennefer has to agree.</p><p>They keep passing her around, sitting on the bed so that Ciri can see her.  Ciri’s eyes are wide with amazement at her new baby sister.</p><p>“What’s her name?”</p><p>“She’s so new she doesn’t have one,” Mousesack tells her, shifting the baby in his arms.  She’s calmed down now, looking around at them with her eyes, which seem too focused for a newborn.  But maybe every parent thinks that.</p><p>“She needs one,” Ciri says firmly, and for some reason all her partners turn to look at Yennefer.</p><p>“We’ve talked about it,” Geralt says, unshed tears of happiness lighting up their eyes.  “And we think you should be the one to name her.”</p><p>Yennefer looks down at her daughter.  She knows what to do.</p><p>“Izolda.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Annnnd I'm back!  It's been busy, just started a new job, but I'm going to be catching up over the past couple days.  I might go out of order for the next prompt so I can yell about chickens, if people are chill with that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ciri sits on the bed, Izolda held in her arms.  They’re in the main bedroom, Geralt curled up next to their daughters.  It’s been three hours since Izolda was brought into the world, and the seven of them haven’t left this room, except to get clothes for the baby.  This is the first time Ciri is holding her, and the seven year old is using the utmost care.</p><p>“Her eyes are pretty,” Ciri says, shifting the baby in her arms.  Geralt has to stop themself from reaching out to steady her.  </p><p>“She’s got Dami’s eyes, doesn’t she?” Mousesack says gently.  Ciri nods.  </p><p>“They’re gorgeous eyes,” Jaskier says somewhat pointedly.  Geralt rolls their supposedly gorgeous eyes, but they have to admit that they like the color better on Izolda than on themselves.  They are a little sad that they will forever mark her as different, but they like the idea of her always having a part of them with her, in a way.</p><p>Yennefer, who’s lying across the bed next to Ciri, half asleep, looks up.  “She’s perfect,”  she says gently.  “I love her eyes.  Love your eyes as well.”  Triss nods, smiling up at them from where she’s sitting against the wall with Jaskier’s head in her lap.  It’s a very big bed, one Triss commissioned specially for them shortly after they bought the house.  Geralt is starting to get sleepy themselves. </p><p>“Ciri, can I have a turn with her?”  Triss asks.  The little girl nods seriously, letting Geralt take her and hand her to Triss.  Once her sister has been safely exchanged, she snuggles in against Geralt.  Triss looks down at her daughter and coos.  </p><p>“Hello again, Iza.”</p><p>Yennefer sighs.  “So we’ve decided we’re calling her that, are we?”</p><p>“What?”  Triss laughs.  “I think it’s cute.  Are you angry that I’m disrupting your chosen name already?”</p><p>Yennefer just grumbles, too tired to argue.</p><p>The room is warm, and Geralt is starting to feel tired themself.  It’s been a long day, even though the sun has barely started to set.  Tomorrow will be another long day, their first full one with a newborn.  Geralt is looking forward to it, even though they know it’s going to be exhausting.</p><p>“We should sleep,” Jaskier says, sitting up next to Triss so she can hold Izolda more easily.  </p><p>“It’s barely past sunset,” Triss points out, “but I guess we can sleep.”</p><p>“We need to go feed the chickens first!”  Ciri informs them.  Jaskier laughs.  </p><p>“I’ll go see to them with you, little cub.  We can bring Roach in as well.”</p><p>As they exit the room, Geralt lays down next to Yennefer, burying their nose in her hair.  “You did wonderfully today, you know?”</p><p>She murmurs something they can’t quite hear back at them.  “What was that?”</p><p>“I said I couldn’t have done it without you.  Without all of you.”</p><p>“We did it together,” Mousesack says, reaching out to take Triss’ hand.  “And we all did well.”</p><p>Geralt raises themself up just enough to see Izolda, whose eyes are still wide open.  “We did.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. father</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was going to be out of order, but then I remembered our hen who hatched eleven chicks on Christmas day and decided to go for it.</p><p>A huge thanks to CassandrasDreamworld and thewonderfulthingaboutfish for the chicken names.  Thanks also to my dad for naming one of the roosters, which is the closest you will get to the actual prompt in this but oh well</p><p>Warning for brief discussion of implied animal death</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The chickens are a mixed lot.  There are twelve of them now, not counting the two young roosters who live outside.  Most of them are smaller, and either black or golden-brown with feathers lined in black, but there’s one big gray one, and a black one with a ridiculous white feather explosion on its head.</p><p>Ciri loves all of them dearly, and is an expert at catching them.  The chickens mostly put up with her, sitting still in her lap and letting her pet them until they decide they’ve had enough.  The little house has been set up in the barn, and Geralt and Triss have built them a coop outside, to protect them from the hawks that fly overhead.</p><p>“We should get ducks next,” Ciri tells Mousesack as she hauls the tin waterer outside.  It’s really too big for her to carry it without spilling, but she insists.  </p><p>“I think we’ve got enough on our plates right now,” Triss points out, scooping cracked corn into the long feeder.  Alto, Aria, Allegra, Cadence, Melody, Harmony, Sonata, Glissando, Mezzo, Key, and Timbre come running over, missing only Viola, who’s gone broody again even though it’s late September.  Ciri had insisted on letting her keep the eggs, and when her parents had pointed out they would have to keep the chicks inside, she had only seemed to get more excited.</p><p>They had had five chicks born that spring, the adults refusing to have any more than that.  “We don’t have the space for them all,” Geralt had pointed out, only to be informed by their daughter that they could make a bigger house.  The two roosters, Harper and Crescendo, had been swiftly moved outside when they started fighting with each other and Timbre.  They had seemed to make peace when faced with the cold hard world.</p><p>“We have to bring Iza out to see the chickens,” Ciri tells Triss firmly.  Triss closes the feeder and returns the scoop to its bucket.</p><p>“She’s a bit too young to appreciate them, little cub.”</p><p>“Yeah, but she should still meet them.”</p><p>“Maybe in a few days.”</p><p>Triss goes over to the nesting box to check on Viola.  “Ciri, come look at this.”  Ciri, who had picked up Harmony, comes running over with the black hen cradled under one arm.  She places her on the ground and sticks her hand under Viola.  What she finds makes her squeal in delight.  </p><p>“Da!  Look!  One of the eggs is cracked!”</p><p>Ever so carefully, she picks it up, ignoring Viola’s stream of clucked obscenities, and holds it out to him.  The egg is indeed cracked, and Mousesack can see a bit of brown fluff through the shell.</p><p>Once she sees that he’s seen it, she carefully returns it to its place under Viola, who shifts side to side to settle it, still squawking angrily.  Mousesack smiles, and reaches for Ciri’s hand.</p><p>“Let’s go back inside and see your sister, little cub.”</p><p>She nods, and with a last wave at her chickens, follows him out of the little house.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. gallop</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can you tell I'm a horse person</p><p>Also I finally have a full list of parent names!  They are:<br/>Geralt - Dami<br/>Jaskier - Papa<br/>Mousesack - Da<br/>Triss - Mama<br/>Yennefer - Mimi</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I didn’t want a stupid baby anyways!”  Ciri yells, and then immediately bursts into tears.</p><p>“I think it’s time to go outside,” Yennefer says sharply.  “Geralt, why don’t you take her to see Roach?”</p><p>Geralt takes Ciri’s hand and leads her to the back door, still crying.  Once they’re on the porch, they hand her the towel they had grabbed from the kitchen and wipes her face up.  She wraps her arms around them and buries her face in their chest, and they are once again overtaken by just how small she still is.</p><p>“Let’s go see Roach, like Mimi suggested, alright?”  She nods, and they feel the motion more than see it.</p><p>Roach’s stall in the little barn is large and set far back in the aisle.  At the moment, she’s out enjoying the last of the grass (Geralt has already been to see one of their neighbors about buying hay for the winter), but it’s a rule of Geralt’s that Ciri always get her tack ready before she brings Roach in.</p><p>Ciri is still sniffling as she hangs the bar they use as a saddle rack from its hook.  Geralt isn’t sure what to say to comfort her, or to help her tease out her feelings.  They didn’t have siblings that they remember, not until they had been taken to Kaer Morhen, and jealousy over a new child’s arrival hadn’t been much of a problem there.</p><p>Well, maybe that’s a lie.  They do remember being disgruntled when Vesemir had brought Lambert to the keep, because their favorite instructor was paying so much attention to the bad-tempered little boy, but they’d been much older than Ciri at that point, old enough that they’d been able to put the feelings aside and do their best to help.</p><p>Ciri leads Roach in, pulls out her stool, and begins grooming her thoroughly.  Geralt doesn’t help, but they do stand behind her and hold Roach’s leg while she picks hooves.  After that, they help her lift the heavy saddle onto the mare’s back, and make sure she double checks the girth - Roach isn’t one to hold her breath so you can’t get it tight, but it’s a good habit to get into.  Ciri leads Roach out into the paddock, and Geralt gives her a leg up into the saddle.</p><p>Normally, Geralt is fairly strict with Ciri in their lessons - the more she develops her skills and habits now, the stronger a rider she'll be later.  But today they let her canter around the field, edging into a gallop at times.  When Ciri finally dismounts, Roach is slightly sweaty despite the cold weather, and Ciri looks far less stormy.</p><p>Geralt makes her walk Roach so the mare has time to cool down, then helps her untack.  After she lets Roach back into the large main field, she gives him another hug.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Dami.  I really really love Iza just - not all the time."</p><p>Geralt nods, trying desperately to project understanding.  "It's a big change, being a big sister, isn't it."</p><p>She nods, and they go back into the house together.</p><p>That evening, after Ciri's in bed and they're getting ready to put Izolda down, Geralt says, "I think it's time to get Ciri her first pony."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. throat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier has never been someone who was bothered by noise.  As a child, he was never allowed to make enough of it, and grew to love it in its absence.  At Oxenfurt, he had learned to revel in it.</p><p>The wire cage of baby chicks in his basement may be making him rethink this stance.  They never seem to be quiet, constantly peeping, even at night.  They sleep a lot, sure, but they never sleep at the same time.</p><p>But they make Ciri happy enough that he won’t send them back out into the cold.  Instead, he complains about it to his partners after Ciri has gone to bed.</p><p>One night, when he and Ciri are sitting together holding the chicks, Ciri brings up the question of noise.  Well, sort of.  “How come chickens sound like other birds when they’re babies, but when they grow up they cluck instead of sing?”</p><p>Jaskier has to stop and think about that one for a moment.  He doesn’t actually know a lot about chickens, but he wants Ciri to keep thinking he has the answers to things, to keep her asking questions.</p><p>“I suppose they’re built differently,” he tells her.  “Chickens weren’t made to sing.”</p><p>“But why not?  What if they want to sing?”</p><p>Jaskier shrugs.  “Maybe clucking sounds like singing to them.”</p><p>Her eyes go wide at that.  “I never thought of that!  You really think so?”</p><p>“I can’t say for sure, but it seems like it would make sense, no?”</p><p>Ciri nods. “Since we can’t ask the chickens, I get to decide, and I decide it’s true.”</p><p>Jaskier laughs at that.  “Oh, so you’re the arbiter of truth now, are you?”</p><p>She scrunches her face.  “What’s an -”</p><p>“It’s like a judge.”</p><p>“Oh, okay. Yes, I am.”</p><p>Jaskier wants to laugh again, but doesn't.  He doesn't want to hurt Ciri's feelings.  He loves this confidence of hers.  She's grown so much in the time he's known her, and he's so excited to see where she goes as she grows up.</p><p>She hands him one of the chicks, a brown one.  They're too little to tell if they're hens or roosters yet, and their first set of wing feathers have just started to grow in. "Here, hold Forte."</p><p>The chick wriggles in his hands for a moment, before sticking its head into the opening of his sleeve.</p><p>There's a pause in conversation, Ciri thoughtfully stoking the yellow and white chick, Legato, in her hands.  They have a small tuft on their head that makes Jaskier wonder if they're going to develop a headpiece by the time they grow up, like Mezzo has</p><p>"Did you learn about chickens at Oxenfurt?" Ciri asks, and once again Jaskier barely keeps himself from laughing, she sounds so serious.  He shakes his head.</p><p>"No I didn't.  You can learn about chickens there, if you want to be a veterinary surgeon, but not if you're a student of the seven liberal arts."</p><p>"Then how do you know so much?"</p><p>With the hand not holding the chicken, he reaches over and tweaks her nose.  "I guess I just know everything."</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. potions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Have some Triss Thoughts!  <br/>Warning for brief discussion of infertility</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"We need more water," Ciri decides, looking into her tin bucket, which contains a mixture of wet sand and semi-decomposed leaves.  “Mama, will you go get some?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Triss tells her, taking the old cup her daughter offers and standing up from the blanket they’ve spread in their favorite cove, the one Jaskier found over a year ago.  She walks down to the sea, enjoying the feel of the cool sand under her bare feet.  The water is bitterly cold, and she stands back as far as she can while still filling the cup.</p><p>Ciri checks the levels when she brings it back over, and, apparently satisfied, pours it into her concoction.  “Now we need some shells.”</p><p>“I can get those for you,” Jaskier offers.  “Is there anything else you need?”  </p><p>She considers the mix.  “More leaves?”</p><p>He does a mock bow.  “As the princess commands.”  She giggles.</p><p>“What is your potion going to be for?”  Mousesack asks, bouncing Izolda in his lap.  It’s the first time they’ve brought her to the beach, and she’s bundled up in an adorable purple coat Mousesack knitted for her before she was born.  Despite the red hair and yellow eyes, she looks strikingly like Yennefer in it.</p><p>“I haven’t decided yet.”  Ciri replies, completely unconcerned.  </p><p>“Can you make one for warming people up?” Jaskier calls from the shoreline.</p><p>“You’re with two sorceresses and a druid!”  Yennefer yells back.  “Ask one of us, you dolt.”  He holds his arms up in surrender.</p><p>“And I know Igni,” Geralt points out lightly.  “Hmm, maybe we should get a fire going.  It’s going to be dark soon.”</p><p>“We should probably head back before that,” Triss points out, glancing a little anxiously at Izolda.  So far, she seems unconcerned by the chilly fall wind, but Triss is taking no chances.</p><p>“Do you want a turn?”  Mousesack asks, readjusting the baby.  She squirms happily in his arms.  At two months old, she’s still not good at much other than squirming and wiggling, but she’s very very good at both of those.</p><p>Triss nods, holding out her hands and welcoming the weight of her baby girl in her arms.  Izolda squawks at the transfer, but settles in, and blinks up at her mama.  Triss is unable and unwilling to stop the tide of love rolling at the sight of her.  </p><p>Some days, when she isn’t completely exhausted and there isn’t throw up on her, she sits down with the baby and thinks about the fact that she helped bring this little person into the world.  It’s a wild concept, really.  </p><p>Triss had never fought against her infertility like Yennefer had, although she understood her love’s reaction as well as her own.  Instead, she had put that dream away in a quiet corner of her mind, and tried not to look at it.  Not until they had started working on the spells that would eventually bring Izolda into the world had she let herself examine it, and she had found that the desire ran deep and wide.  And now, her daughter is here.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. dragon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is dedicated to the Hexer watch party from the TAKM server.  Youse are awesome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Borch shows up unannounced, as he is wont to do, on a rainy day in November.  There's a tiny blue dragon snaked around his shoulders.  He leaves in short order, without the baby dragon.</p><p>"We can't keep calling him Orestheus," Geralt says.  “No one’s going to believe that’s a human name.”</p><p>“We could always just say that as a poet I took artistic license,” Jaskier points out.  “Also, at this point we have no idea how to get him to assume his human form, which I think is a much bigger problem.”</p><p>Triss nods, bouncing Izolda on her hip.  “I guess we’ll just have to keep him out of sight of the neighbors for the moment.”</p><p>“Won’t be hard,” Yennefer says, “Seeing as we barely have any.  What do you think, Ciri, what should we call him?”</p><p>“Ori,” Ciri says.  “You promise he won’t eat my chickens?”</p><p>“Promise,” Mousesack tells her.  “I like Ori.  Does anyone know what his name means?”</p><p>“Hill, I think,” Jaskier says distractedly.  “Or, no.  Mountain’s closer.”  He ignores the looks his partners give him at this obscure information.</p><p>“Gorian,” Mousesack says.  “We’ll call him Gorian.”</p><p>“What do you think of that?” Geralt asks the little dragon, who hisses enthusiastically.  Borch hadn’t told them how old he was, but regardless, he’s very mobile, twisting and twining around Geralt’s arms.  He doesn’t seem to want to escape, just to be eager to move.  His color shifts in the sunlight as he moves, flashing from green to purple and back again.</p><p>“We’re sure Borch isn’t coming back?” Yennefer asks, looking at the squirming dragon.</p><p>“I didn’t get that impression, but he didn’t say anything outright,” Triss tells her.</p><p>“He never does,” Geralt grumbles.</p><p>“I guess we have a dragon baby for the foreseeable future, then.”  Triss says.  Izolda, apparently attracted by the colors of her new brother, reaches out for him, but Triss deftly swings her to the other side, looking around the room for something else for her to hold.  Mousesack hands her a wooden horse from the porch, which Izolda immediately sticks in her mouth.</p><p>Gorian stops wriggling to intently watch the other baby, and then, so fast that Geralt almost drops him, shifts into a human slightly older than Izolda and reaches out himself.  “Bah!”</p><p>“You want a horse?” Jaskier asks as Geralt struggles to readjust the almost-toddler.  He scans the porch, but all other toys are Ciri’s, and she’s giving him a hard look.</p><p>“I can get one,” Yennefer says, and runs inside.  She returns with a horse carved from silvery wood, which Gorian takes with a serious expression.  Once it’s in his hand, he breaks into a grin, showing several shiny-new teeth.  </p><p>“Bah!”</p><p>“Is that what it’s called?  Your bah?” She asks him, reaching out to take him from Geralt.  </p><p>“Ahba!”</p><p>Yennefer looks around at her gathered family.  “I guess with the five of us it won’t be so hard.”</p><p>“Absolutely,” Jaskier tells her.  “We’ve got this.”</p><p>“Until Borch comes back,” Geralt says darkly.</p><p>“Let’s not think about that right now, love,” Mousesack says, putting a hand on their arm.  “For now, let’s focus on Gorian.”</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. lost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I googled "squirrels in poland" for this</p><p>Warnings: what's basically a death metaphor.  Also if you are sensitive to people losing special objects, know that it all works out in the end!</p>
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    <p>Ciri is bravely trying to hold back her tears as the small party goes through the woods, stopping occasionally to look through the leaves and debris accumulated on the forest floor.</p><p>"Do you remember where you had her last?" Yennefer asks, pushing aside a bush to check underneath it.</p><p>Ciri shakes her head and sniffles.  "I <i>was</i> by the big oak tree? But then I moved the camp but before I could finish Dami called me for dinner."</p><p>Night is starting to fall, and it’s getting chilly, but no one suggests they go back in.  They’ve spent the last thirty minutes in the woods, crunching through brambles in search of Ciri’s stuffed cat.  Triss and Geralt are the only ones missing from the search party, having stayed behind with the babies.</p><p>"It's alright, little cub.  We'll do our best to find her," Mousesack tries to reassure.  She shakes her head.  </p><p>"But what if we <i>don't</i>?  Then Poppy won't have anyone to play with and Cornflower will be all alone!  And she's scared of the dark!  And what if an animal came and took her away?"</p><p>“We’ll get you another stuffed animal,” Yennefer promises.  Ciri’s face crumples, and her tears finally fall.</p><p>“I don’t <i>want</i> another stuffed animal, I want Cornflower!”</p><p>Yennefer gives Jaskier a 'you're the family poet, you figure out what to say' look.  He sighs, then kneels on the forest floor and holds his arms out to Ciri, who immediately runs over to him.  She scrunches her little hands into his shirt.</p><p>“If we don’t find Cornflower, it’ll be sad, but it’ll be alright.  We’ll let ourselves be sad for a while, but then we’ll move on.”</p><p>“But I don’t want to.”</p><p>“You don’t want to now, no.  I know.  Right now it just hurts, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Ciri nods into his shirt.  He rubs her back slowly, beginning to hum.</p><p>“Papa?”</p><p>“Yes love?”</p><p>“What will happen to Cornflower if we don’t find her?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmmm.  Maybe a squirrel will find her, and take her home for a winter nest.  What do you think of that?”</p><p>She wipes at her eyes.  “You really think they would?  And they wouldn’t chew her up?”</p><p>“I really do.  Do you know how squirrels spend the winter? They stay cozy in their burrows as much as they can.  Think how nice and warm it would be, with all the squirrels cuddled up with Cornflower.”</p><p>“What about in the spring?” Ciri hiccups.</p><p>“In the spring they’ll have their babies, and they’ll grow up snuggling with her.  And when those squirrels grow up their babies will do the same.”</p><p>Ciri’s tears are quieting when the two of them hear a call from a few feet away.  “Ciri!  I found her!”  And then Mousesack is kneeling beside her, holding out the shabby blue cat.</p><p>Ciri shrieks in excitement, wrapping her arms around Cornflower.  “Thank you, Da!”</p><p>The small group starts to make their way inside, Yennefer scooping Ciri into her arms since it’s a special occasion.  As they’re about to go inside, Ciri asks, “Papa?  Tomorrow can we put something nice out for the squirrels?  Since they won’t have Cornflower.”</p><p>Jaskier smiles, because his kid really is the best.  “Of course we can.”</p><p>Yennefer gives him a confused look as she passes, but Jaskier just waves a hand to let her know he’ll fill her in later.</p>
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